Anchoring
by Nephthys Snape
Summary: Dwalin/Bilbo. Short one-shot. Bilbo is confused by dwarves, which frustrates the dwarves.


Disclaimer - Characters/world/etc used for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit.

AN:/ This and the previously posted story 'Wonder' are both part of a series of one shots posted to my Ao3 account: archiveofourown works/ 828701/ chapters/ 1574828 (removes spaces).

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The ups and downs of the journey were a lot more than a hobbit could bear. Many times Bilbo seriously thought about turning around for home, but he knew he could never make it back on his own. So, he kept on going, getting more use to the company, travel, and the horrors of sleeping in the wild.

After the pleasant time in Rivendell, being back on the road was worse yet. But nothing could have prepared him for the Misty Mountains, giants, goblins, wargs, and orcs. The hobbit didn't really know how he'd had the sense to get through it all. Half way through, he'd been a split second from taking on the giants again just to get back to the elves. He'd never be missed, and he knew it.

Riddling with a creature in the dark and killing orcs was not something he felt even a Took would do. He was losing himself on this adventure, losing the hobbit inside of him. He looked the part but all else… The security he'd always had was gone and he _was _lost. More than he had been when Thorin had bit out those hateful words on the mountain.

As they camped at the bottom of what Gandalf called the Carrock, he huddled alone as Oin and the others made sure their king was well. He tried to clean his sword, wiping at it in a haze, more smearing the gore than getting it off. So lost to his thoughts and automatic motion, Bilbo nearly came out of his skin when a large hand fell over his own, starting to guide him in his cleaning.

The hobbit hadn't even noticed Dwalin sit beside him, and he flushed at how close the dwarf was and the fact that he was _touching_ Bilbo. The hand was strong and rough, and his belly tightened as his breath caught.

Bilbo'd had his eye on Dwalin for a while. There was just something about the large, brusque, intimidating, strong dwarf that drew Bilbo in; had from the moment the dwarf had eaten his supper. Anytime trouble had reared its head, it was to Dwalin Bilbo looked, and even at a distance, the presence of the dwarf comforted him. It was in no small part due to Dwalin that he'd wanted to prove his worth, that he was there at that moment, hand under the warm touch of the warrior dwarf.

Looking up at the dwarf, he swallowed. "Master Dwalin?" He asked, hesitant. Speaking might chase the dwarf away.

"You're doing it wrong, lad. Now pay attention." He continued to move Bilbo's hand in slow, sure strokes along the blade, pushing the mess off the blade instead of smearing it around. "Sword's a responsibility. You have to take care of them, though I doubt anything could do any damage to such an elven blade."

The hobbit looked at their hands, watching the rhythmic strokes. He swallowed nervously. "Uh… Th… thank you." He glanced up at the dwarf again, but Dwalin was watching what he was doing with clear concentration.

"You did well against the orcs. Took us all by surprise. No real form, but sometimes all you need is proper motivation." Dwalin didn't spare him a look, reaching around behind Bilbo to take his other hand and turn the blade over. He left his arm and hand there, gripping the hilt of the small sword and Bilbo's other hand.

Locked in this semi-embrace, Bilbo felt warm and safe, as if the world around them had no way of getting to him. Dwalin's arm was hard as stone across his shoulders, strong and secure. Bilbo found himself leaning back into it as he tried to focus on what the dwarf was showing him. But, really, he'd gotten the idea of how to clean the sword after the first couple swipes. It was becoming clear that this had little to do with the 'letter opener.'

Dwalin was silent for several minutes, turning the blade again to make sure he hadn't missed anything. The hobbit shifted and glanced up at him again, feeling so small against the dwarf's side. "Master Dwalin?" He asked softly.

The warrior finally looked down at him, breathing out through his nose enough to ruffle his beard and Bilbo's curls. The hands covering Bilbo's tightened, and under the firm gaze the hobbit shifted and would have hunched in on himself if he were not stuck against the dwarf's side. "Uh…" Bilbo glanced around at the others, but they were steadfastly _not_ looking in their direction. Whatever was going on, they wanted no part in it, and Bilbo shifted and tugged fruitlessly against Dwalin's hold.

"You were very brave, Halfling, and we are very grateful." Dwalin's voice drew his gaze back to the dwarf, and he met the other's gaze even as he felt the need to cow under it. "But you were a fool. You could have been killed!" His voice was quiet, and Bilbo really wished it wasn't. He was accustomed to Dwalin yelling. This quiet, contained anger was all the more frightening. That said, he couldn't just sit there, he had to try to calm the dwarf down.

"Be that as it may, Thorin is needed by you, by the others, by his people. What's one little hobbit in the face of all of that?" He asked quietly. "I did what I had to do. No one's going to miss _me_, but _Thorin_ has to make it to the mountain, has to bring his people home."

The growl that escaped Dwalin was loud and reverberating. Bilbo felt in his bones, and it echoed off the rock faces around them. Suddenly, he wasn't being held anymore, the hands and the body were gone, and Bilbo found himself completely alone in his little spot away from the others. He heard Dwalin stomping off, making no move to be quiet about it, and then came silence.

Bilbo shook, his little sword falling from his trembling fingers to the dirt, and he made no move to pick it up, instead flexing his fingers a few times before curling his hands into loose fists. He had no idea what had just happened. First Dwalin's praising him and the next thing he knows the dwarf is full of barely contained fury. It was very confusing.

He sat there for a long time, vaguely aware of the murmurs across the camp as the others talked to each other in hushed voices. He felt ostracized from the group, and he was again sorely contemplating fleeing for Rivendell when he heard hard, determined footfalls heading for him. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew it had to be Thorin.

The prince sat down with a grunt of pain and stared at him, hard. "You really are oblivious, aren't you, hobbit?"

"So everyone continues to point out. No matter what I'll always be the weak link, the fool, the useless baggage, the hindrance, and whatever else it is you all think," he informed him sourly. It wasn't really fair, but Bilbo found he didn't care.

Thorin sighed, sounding tired and irritated. "It is by my hand you have been led to believe these things about yourself. For that, I apologize."

Bilbo's head shot up and he stared at the prince in wonder. It was weird, having the dwarf be apologetic, especially now that they were off the Carrock and things were getting back to normal. The steely blue gaze was unwavering, and he gave a small nod. "It's alright. Really. I'm just blowing off steam." He was familiar with being the odd duck. There was no reason for him to take his frustrations out on Thorin, who was injured and tired and had far too much on his mind to deal with this nuisance. "I shouldn't be bothering you with this."

"Yet here we are." Thorin rolled his eyes. "You scared him, burglar."

"Scared him? You mean _Dwalin_?!" He asked, a little too loudly. He noticed Thorin glance at the others and followed his gaze. All of their heads suddenly shot around, finding absolutely anything to look at but prince and hobbit. Dwalin wasn't among them, he noted.

"You really _are_ oblivious. Yes, Dwalin, Master Baggins." Thorin shifted and winced slightly. It said something that he let Bilbo witness it, the hobbit was certain.

Bilbo frowned and gripped his trousers at the knees. How on Arda could he have _scared_ Dwalin? He was the least scary in the group, even mousy Ori was more intimidating… Okay, maybe not when Bilbo got going on a good tirade, but otherwise… "How?" He asked, blinking at the prince.

Thorin gave a small growl. "How can you be this naïve?" He asked in frustration.

"Excuse me for not knowing any and all there is to know about you damn dwarrows!" He huffed at him, grabbing up his sword and shoving it in its sheath as he rose to his feet.

Thorin scowled up at him. "Baggins," he growled in warning. It seemed things really were getting back to normal if Thorin was back to that tone. The prince sighed and ran a hand over his beard. "You recklessly threw yourself into danger, with little chance of survival. _That_ scared him."

"I was saving _you_. I was the only one that was close enough, fast enough, or at least reacted fast enough. I don't mean that they didn't… wouldn't… that they _couldn't_ have done. I just…"

Rising to his feet, Thorin grimaced and put an arm around his ribs. His other hand he raised and rested on Bilbo's shoulder. "Bilbo Baggins, I will say this once more, and only the once, and then I will leave this mess to you and Dwalin." He looked Bilbo in the eye. "You _scared_ him. He thought you would be _lost_." The prince dropped his hand from the hobbit's shoulder and walked away, going back to the fire and the company.

Bilbo puzzled over the words, still not really grasping what Thorin was trying to say. Dwalin valued his friends, the hobbit knew that. Apparently he was now in their number, but it seemed… He'd put extra emphasis on lost.

'_I thought we'd lost our burglar.'_ Dwalin's voice tickled the back of his mind as did the memory of a warm strong hand patting him on the shoulder. Thinking about it, it had been as if he was reassuring himself that Bilbo was still standing there. Then after the goblins Dwalin had looked ready to turn around and go back to the cave. Granted, he hadn't been the only one, but…

Oh. _Oh!_ He really was a fool. Could he really believe it, though?

Determined, Bilbo turned to look for the warrior. He wasn't with the rest, and he sighed to himself in disappointment. He wanted to get this discussion done and then see what happened. If he couldn't find the damned dwarf… Twinkling aged eyes caught his gaze and then darted pointedly toward a large rock a short distance away.

Bilbo gave Gandalf a grateful smile and headed that way. On quiet hobbit feet, he padded around the boulder and found Dwalin sitting with his back to him, sharpening one of his axes. The hobbit paused, not sure he wanted to approach after the dwarf's aggravated exit and there being a weapon in his hand. Steeling himself, he silently walked up to the dwarf and rested his hand on a large shoulder.

Dwalin stiffened but at least didn't attack. He looked over and frowned. "Halfling."

"I really don't like that word," Bilbo informed him before sitting down beside him, close but not so close as to be in his personal space.

The warrior grunted but didn't comment. Bilbo sighed softly. This was going to be like pulling warg teeth. For a few minutes, he just sat there, silent, waiting to see if the dwarf would say anything, or give anything away. He wasn't surprised that it didn't happen. All Dwalin did was change axes.

"Look… I'm sorry." Bilbo shifted a little closer. "I can be a bit dense sometimes. I'm not that good with people, bit of an odd duck, you see. Have to be to end up out here. Hobbits aren't made for this, not even Tooks. Not sure how I'll ever show my face back in the Shire. Be a right laughing stock, I will. Not that I haven't been before. I can handle it well enough, I suppose. Besides, it'll be worth it, having come along and helped everyone." He smiled at Dwalin, who had stopped his sharpening to stare at him. "I'd not change my choice to be here for anything, and I'd not change what I've done. Well, maybe the troll snot, but that's probably the only thing. Oh, and forgetting my handkerchief. Not that I don't appreciate the substitute, but it's not quite the same. And, well, there's…"

Dwalin surged forward and sealed his mouth over Bilbo's, effectively stopping the torrent of words. The hobbit squeaked and tangled his fingers in the dwarf's beard, shocked and needing something to grasp onto. As quickly as it started, Dwalin pulled back to rest his forehead to Bilbo's. "You talk too much."

The hobbit huffed. "I talk as much as I feel I need to, thank you very much. It's not my fault I have to prattle on. You dwarrows only hear every third word, anyhow."

The warrior laughed and set his ax aside to pull Bilbo into his lap. "I hear everything you say, and half of it is nothing but nervous chatter and reiteration."

He blinked up at Dwalin. "Reiteration?" He started giggling. Bilbo couldn't help it.

"What?" Dwalin demanded, frowning at him, which only made the giggles worse. "It's a word!" He defended himself.

Bilbo tried to calm himself down. "Yes." He grinned. "I just didn't know you'd _know_ it."

Dwalin grunted and grumbled, scowling at him. The hobbit chuckled and rested his head against Dwalin's again, which seemed to appease him well enough. "Are you sure this is what you want?" The dwarf asked him.

"I wouldn't be sitting here like this if it wasn't." Bilbo bumped his nose against Dwalin's. "I was trying to say, before, that I'd change that I never noticed before, that you were watching me, too." He grinned as the warrior pulled back to look at him intently. Then he was being held close and kissed again.

Bilbo kissed back. He'd not consider running away again. He had even more reason to stay, and stay he would. He'd see his friends back to the mountain; he'd see Dwalin back to his home. When they got there, when the dragon was gone, he knew he'd have a choice to make, but he wouldn't, couldn't worry about it yet.


End file.
